


Find Your Way Home

by Rhiannon87



Category: October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving, Multiple Pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"I can forgive you your foolishness only because I know how lost you are. But one day, you'll have to come back home."</em>
</p>
<p>May and Quentin are trying to give Toby somewhere to call home, but there's only so much they can do. Set shortly before <em>Ashes of Honor</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find Your Way Home

“Whoa,” I breathed as the car pulled to a stop. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” Toby said, leaning forward to squint at the dark street. “Sylvester said he'd be meeting us...”

I let her keep an eye out for invisible cars. It was just before sunset, and the house was practically glowing. Bright blue and yellow and green-- it was like Sylvester had painted the house just for me. Hopefully the inside would be just as great as the outside. Although Toby would probably get cranky if all the walls were that particular shade of blue. “Can I paint my room?”

“If we take the place,” Toby said. “I haven't agreed to anything.”

I snorted. “Like Sylvester's gonna let you say no. Like _I'm_ gonna let you say no. The apartment's way too crowded with the seven of us.”

Toby glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “Seven?”

“You, me, Jazz, Quentin, Cagney, Lacey, and Spike,” I said, counting off on my fingers. “Plus we could actually have people over and not die of embarrassment.”

She smirked. “That's never been a risk,” she replied. “You can't die, and I have no shame.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. She made a face back, and for a second, it actually felt like we were sisters, like we'd grown up together, teasing and fighting and laughing. I had fragmented memories of having sisters, and while I loved Toby like family, it was different with her. We didn't have enough history, even though I remembered her whole life. She didn’t know any of mine. “Well, we could still have people over more,” I said. “Mitch and Stacy and the kids, or Danny, or Raj and Tybalt...”

That last one had been calculated, I'll admit. Toby's expression darkened for a second, then she shook her head. “I think that's them,” she said and opened the car door.

I unbuckled my seat belt, resisting the urge to bang my head against the dashboard. Grieving didn't mean cutting out everyone who gave a damn about her, but that seemed to be Toby's plan. She couldn't really avoid me or Jazz or Quentin, but she was doing a bang-up job at staying away from everyone else. And okay, yeah, I was kind of an ex-personification of death, but I wasn't totally insensitive. I knew it wasn't a good idea for her to get all snuggly with Tybalt _now_... but he cared about her. She could use that.

“May, you coming?” Toby called from outside the car.

“Yep!” I shouldered the door open and trotted after her. Sylvester and Quentin were standing beside a classic blue Cadillac; Quentin waved at us, while Sylvester thumbed through a comically large key ring.

Sylvester glanced up and smiled at us. “So, what do you think?” he asked, nodding at the house.

“It's gorgeous!” I gushed before Toby could say anything.

“It's very, uh, bright,” Toby said.

Sylvester chuckled. “I know,” he said apologetically, and I pouted. I liked the colors. “It's stunning by moonlight, though.”

Toby shrugged. “I'll take your word for it.”

“Oh, you'll see it yourself soon enough,” Sylvester said. “Ah! There they are. This way.”

Quentin cleared his throat and pointed at the garage, which contained a single, unoccupied car. “Um... does somebody live here?”

Sylvester shook his head. “The groundskeeper says the neighbor's been parking there,” he explained. “I'll talk to him.”

“I can handle it,” Toby said, then caught herself and added, “if we move in.”

“We're moving in,” I said. Quentin nodded enthusiastically.

Sylvester chuckled and unlocked the front door. “Seems like you're outnumbered, Toby.”

“I usually am.”

Sylvester held the door open for us, and Toby led the way inside. The front hall was narrow and painted in a warm, pale yellow—not as great as the colors outside, but still nice. Polished oak stairs led up to the second floor, while the hall itself held a few open archways and closed doors to explore. “Go on, look around,” Sylvester said with a grin, leaning against the wall.

Quentin and I didn't need to be told twice. He launched himself at the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, while I went for the doors at the end of the hall. One of the doors led to the living room, while the other led to a huge kitchen, with beautiful wood cabinets and granite counters and giant windows looking out over the explosion of flowers in the backyard. “Oh, wow,” I breathed, turning in a slow circle. “Jazz will love this!” I could already picture the two of us making a big breakfast at the stove... Toby blearily drinking coffee at the table... Quentin doing the dishes when we were done...

“This is nice,” Toby said from the doorway.

“Isn't it?” I said, beaming. “Look, we can put the coffee maker right here!” I waved a hand a spot underneath the cabinets.

“I'm so glad you understand my priorities,” she replied with a grin. The floorboards overhead creaked, and we both looked up. “Think Quentin's claimed a room yet?”

“Let's go look!” I slid past her and headed for the stairs.

All the doors upstairs were standing open, and Quentin poked his head out of the door at the end of the hall. “This is the master bedroom, I think,” he said. “So Toby gets it.”

She blinked. “Uh. Okay.”

“You picked a room yet?” I asked, peering into the other doors: linen closet, bathroom, more bedrooms.

Quentin nodded. “I like this one,” he said, pointing at the room across from Toby’s.

I leaned through the doorway of the room at the top of the stairs. It was pretty spacious, with two large windows and bookshelves built right into the walls. I hugged myself and nodded. Plenty of light, windows for Jazz to come and go, and lots of space for us to fill. It wasn’t home yet, but it could be. Especially if we painted the walls purple.

“You like this one?” Toby asked from behind me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I’ll have to ask Jazz, but I think she’ll like it too.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she repeated with a shrug. “We’ll take the place.”

“Of course we will!” I said and threw my arms around her neck. She let out a startled laugh and hugged me back.

She let go sooner than I wanted and turned towards the stairs. “I’ll let Sylvester know,” she said. I nodded, watching her go. Maybe this would make things better. A new place that didn’t have so many memories might help her start to let people back in.

 

*

 

I set the last armload of books on the shelves and brushed off my hands. That was pretty much it for my room. I hadn’t realized how much stuff I’d accumulated, between Shadowed Hills and Toby’s apartment. Moving sucked. And Toby’s line about how doing it the mortal way (instead of getting a couple Tuatha to open up some portals) ‘built character’ was total bullshit. Still, we hadn't really had a choice. We’d had to visibly move in during the day so the mortal neighbors wouldn’t get suspicious.

At least everything was in the house now, even if most of it was still in boxes. On that note, I was probably needed downstairs—May and Jazz were unpacking the kitchen, last I saw.

There was a pile of boxes in the hall between my room and Toby’s. One of them made a rattling sound as I passed, and I sighed. “C’mon, Spike,” I called experimentally. More rattling, but no rose goblin. Spike was apparently enough like a cat to share their love of boxes. The problem was that it kept managing to get stuck in them. I lifted a lid on one of the boxes and frowned. It was only about half-full and held a random assortment of books and men’s t-shirts and coffee mugs, all of which looked sort of familiar. After a moment, the lingering smell of magic reached me, smelling of salt water and something sweet. _Selkie_. Oh, no.

“Those are for the attic,” Toby said flatly from behind me. I jumped, feeling like I’d been caught doing something wrong. She had another armload of boxes, and she didn’t quite look at me as she headed for her room.

“All the more reason for me to get Spike out of them,” I said. “I don’t think it’d like the attic.” Spike rattled again and let out a muffled chirp. Toby chuckled, though it sounded a bit forced, and nudged her door open. As soon as she had her back to me, I closed the box of Connor’s things and pushed it aside. The second box held the rose goblin; it chirped again and jumped up to my shoulder, headbutting me affectionately. “Hi. Ow.”

Toby came out of her room and smiled, reaching out to pet Spike’s head. “I think May and Jazz are still working on the kitchen,” she said. “I’m gonna get these in the attic.” She stood on her tip-toes to grab the latch.

“Want some help?” I offered.

“Nah, I got it.”

I knew a dismissal when I heard it. I sighed and headed for the stairs, Spike riding on my shoulder and chirping happily. At least somebody was in a good mood.

May was sitting on the counter when I came into the kitchen, though judging by how the number of unopened boxes and Jazz’s mussed hair, they hadn’t actually been doing much unpacking. “Hey, kiddo,” May said, clearing her throat. “Coming to help?”

“Yeah,” I said. Spike hopped off my shoulder and nimbly made its way over to the window above the sink. “Toby’s putting some stuff in the attic.”

May’s face fell slightly. “Oh, okay,” she said. “Wanna give me a hand with the glasses?”

The three of us had managed to unpack about half the boxes (and extract Spike and the cats from almost all the cabinets) by the time Toby reappeared. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she’d been crying, and she had her jacket on. “I gotta head out,” she said. “I’ll help with the living room, I promise, but I got a tip on this blackmail thing I need to follow up on.”

“Can I come?” I asked. I had a feeling I knew what the answer would be, but I had to ask.

She glanced at me and hesitated for a second, then shook her head. “No, not this time,” she said. “It’ll be easier with one person.”

I sighed. “Yeah, okay,” I said and turned away to help Jazz with the spice cabinet.

“Building character!” Toby said with false cheer.

“Uh-huh.” I knew what this case was, and it wasn’t going to be easier with one person. More dangerous, definitely—there was a Banshee involved, we knew that much, and Banshees could be pretty destructive when cornered.

Toby sighed. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” she said. “Don’t start on the living room ‘til I get back!”

“We won’t,” May said, sounding resigned. “Be careful.”

Toby just waved and headed for the side door. I waited until I heard her car pull away, then I stepped back from the cabinets and pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I gotta make a call,” I said. May just nodded. She knew what I was doing.

I crossed into the dining room as I found the name I needed. I’d reached the windows by the time the phone stopped ringing. “Hey, Quentin,” Raj said. “What’s up?”

“Unpacking,” I replied.

“Still?”

“We have a _lot_ of stuff.”

He laughed. “You need a rescue?”

“No, I, uh, I need to talk to Tybalt,” I said. “Is he around?”

Raj sighed. “Yeah, he’s here,” he said somberly. He knew why I was asking—there was only one reason I ever called and asked for Tybalt. “Give me a minute.”

“Sure.” I stared out the windows at our dark, quiet street. Toby was out there somewhere, driving off into Oberon-knew-what kind of danger, and she was going alone. Dammit. I should’ve snuck after her, hidden in the backseat again or something. I’d done it before when she went after Blind Michael, I could do it again. I should’ve—

“Quentin?”

“Hey, Tybalt,” I said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not a bother at all,” he replied. “Is everything all right?”

I swallowed hard and looked back at the street. “Toby just went to confront a pissed-off pureblood Banshee,” I told him. “She wouldn’t let me go with her.”

Tybalt let out a pained sigh. “Do you know where she was heading?” he asked, sounding tired.

I gave him the address that we’d tracked the Banshee to. “I’m sorry to keep putting this on you,” I said. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

“It’s all right,” he said, then added, in a much quieter tone, “Neither do I.” We were both silent for a few moments, then he let out a sharp breath. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said. “Wouldn’t have known where to look if you hadn’t called.”

“Well, she took the car, so I can’t go after her myself,” I replied. “Be careful.”

“As much as I am able, I will.”

There was a rustling sound, then Tybalt and Raj’s muffled voices, before Raj came back on the phone. “Hey.”

“Hi again.” I ran a hand through my hair and frowned at my reflection. “Wanna come over and see the house?”

“Uncle Tybalt left me in charge of the Court,” Raj said. “So I can’t right now. But once he gets back, I’ll come over.”

“Cool.” We spent a few minutes talking about the house, then I hung up with an excuse about needing to go back to unpacking. I shoved my phone back in my pocket with a frown. Tybalt would keep her from getting hurt too badly. She’d be fine. There wasn’t anything else I could do for her. I’d done what I could, and anything else that happened wasn’t my fault.

I really wished I could believe that.


End file.
